A letter to ruby by jad salameh

By Robert W. Bibb

A LETTER TO RUBY

Cover Pictures: Ruby’s 4th Birthday Ruby @ Age 4 Ruby “Ma” Cahill with Baby Jerry

A LETTER TO RUBY Dear Ruby, There is someone I want to tell you about. It’s someone that I love very much. Even though you are only 4 years old I am going to tell you about that very wonderful person in this letter so that you can keep it and read it again when you are all grown up. Your Mom and Dad have given you a great treasure in giving you the name “Ruby”, after your great-grandmother, Ruby Cahill. Ruby was kind, thoughtful, generous, and especially considerate of children. She always stayed close to God, doing what was right and good every day, working for her family, parish, and spending much time in prayer each night. Ruby’s grandchildren and I called her “Ma” and so if I call her Ma in this letter you know who I’m talking about. When I first met Ruby she was forty-eight and I was seventeen. At that time she lived in a little four-room shotgun house with three of her children. Ruby’s husband, your great-grandfather Charles T. Cahill Sr., had died the year before (1957) and after I got to know her I could tell she really missed him a lot. Charlie was the next-door neighbor November 7, 1910 when Ruby was born, and he was already 10 years old. Charlie would rock Ruby in the rocking chair when she was a baby and it is well known that he said that he was going to marry her when she grew up. When Ruby was 9 years old her mother, Nancy Lyons Edmondson, died. Since her father, Charles Louis Edmondson, was not able to take care of his six children he put Ruby and her brothers and sisters in Saint Joseph Orphanage. Life in the orphanage was very strict. Ruby learned to keep her few possessions in good order. There was a place for everything and everything had to be kept in it’s place. Children in orphanages in those days got only what they

needed. Things like sugar for cereal was not available. These lessons stayed with Ruby all through her life. I can tell you that in all the time I knew her, Ma kept her home clean, neat, and always in perfect order. Ma let her children, grandchildren, and others use sugar but didn’t use it for herself. There was one bright ray of light in Ruby’s life in the institution; her life long friend Charlie visited her often. Just 64 days after her 17th birthday Ruby and Charlie went across the river to Clarksville, Indiana and got married. Charlie’s nickname was “Chokie”, and every one except Ruby called him that, but in this letter I will call him Charlie as Ruby did. Ruby’s first baby, Charles T. Cahill Jr., was born in 1929. They lived about two houses away from her Father’s house on 17th Street where Ruby was born. I don’t know very much about their life at that time but your grandma Mary Ann has some pictures someone took at that time that you may want to see. I can see from the pictures that after Ma’s second son Jerry was born in 1941 she must have started thinking about how she would love to have a little girl. On April 18, 1944 Ruby got her wish because that’s the day your grandma, Mary Ann was born. Birttie Edmondson, Ruby’s stepmother, was the mid-wife at the birth of Mary Ann. She was born in the very bed you sleep in when you spend the night with her. You’ll not find a picture of Mary Ann in any thing but dresses, as that is how Ruby loved to dress her. After that Ronnie was born. Then there were three little girls but each one died shortly after birth. Their names were Ruby (1950), Theresa, and Helen (twins 1952). After each of the last two childbirth experiences Ruby came close to death. The complications Ruby suffered stemmed from high blood pressure, a condition that was not easily controlled at that time. In 1950, Ruby and Charlie bought a little house on Slevin Street and moved away from 17th Street where they had spent so much of their lives. After a few months their son

Charles, who was 21 years old, was drafted into the Army because of the Korean War. Ruby and Charlie were members of Saint Cecilia Church, which was only two blocks away at 25th & Slevin Streets. Jerry, Mary Ann, and Ronnie, all went to school there and Ruby worked at the Friday Fish Fries and helped clean the church. Charlie worked at Reynolds Aluminum Company and would walk the 28 blocks to work and back every day. They never owned a car because Charlie thought it was a waste of money since the bus went right past their house. Like other men of his day, Charlie always wore a white shirt, tie, and suit coat. When the weather was nice, after walking home from work with lunch box in hand, he would relax by taking off his coat, rolling up his sleeves and resting on the front steps of the house. Often the local bookie would stop by with a Racing Form to see if Charlie wanted to make a bet. Ruby managed the family finances. Charlie would give Ruby the weekly paycheck and she would give him his weekly allowance that he could spend as he pleased. Each summer Charlie enjoyed raising a vegetable garden. If you want to see some pictures of Charlie and his garden your Grandma can show them to you. A little while after Charles got home from the Army, he married Jean Meridith, and on May 27, 1955, Ruby and Charlie got their first granddaughter, Debbie. On Sept. 8th, 1956, their first grandson, David, was born. It was about this time that Ruby began to be called “Ma”. Charlie might be working in the garden or the tool shed, and if one of the grand children wanted something he would say, “go tell your Ma”. There were plenty of children around Ruby and Charlie’s house because their children’s friends were always welcome. Ruby never failed to offer visiting children something to eat or drink. It has even been said that she would wash a visiting neighbor child’s clothes if they were particularly dirty. In

short, no one ever came to Rubyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s house without experiencing her hospitality. In those days there were no wrinkle-proof clothes. Every thing that was washed had to have the wrinkles ironed out. Doing the laundry in those days was a hard, time consuming job, and a lot different than today, but Ruby was very good at it. She had a washing machine, but it was not the automatic kind like we have today. Each piece of laundry would have to be pulled out of the washing tub and put through the wringer to remove the excess water. Then each item was dipped in the kitchen sink full of freshly cooked starch water and hung out on the clothesline to dry. After they were dry they were sprinkled with water, usually from a Coke bottle with a sprinkler top on it. They were then rolled up tight and stored in the bottom of the refrigerator to await ironing. Many people wore wrinkled clothes in those days but not Rubyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s family. Ruby kept her family dressed in the cleanest, most neatly ironed clothes anyone could ever hope for. Like most adults of that time Ruby and Charlie smoked cigarettes. No one back then knew how dangerous it was to smoke. Sometime around 1953 Charlie began having trouble breathing and the doctor found that he had emphysema. As time went on the emphysema got worse and Charlie got weaker and began missing work at Reynolds. By 1955 he had oxygen bottles at home to aid breathing. Charlie was worried that without help he would never be able to pay off the mortgage on their house. Not knowing how much longer he would live, Charlie had Ruby take a job cleaning offices downtown at night while he continued to work days at Reynolds when he was able. Ruby very much wanted to spend the evenings at home with Charlie but she did as he requested in order that the house be paid off. On warm nights Charlie would sit on the front steps waiting for Ruby to come home from work on the bus. Mary Ann would keep her Dad company waiting for her mother even on school nights when it was past her bedtime. She enjoyed the time

she spent with her Daddy but being only 12 years old she had no idea how sick he really was. The Pastor of St. Cecilia Church, Fr. Harry Oberman, would sometimes come and visit Charlie. He even administered the last rites of The Church. Still the full impact of the situation failed to penetrate the innocent minds of the children. Then, late one night in April 1957, while the children were sleeping soundly, our heavenly Father called for Charlie to come home to Him. For Charlie it was the end of suffering and the beginning of life in God’s heaven, for Jesus has told us, ”Eye has not seen, ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man, what God has prepared for those who love him.” For Ruby though, there was an awful feeling of deep personal loneliness. Charlie had always been there for her. From her first days on earth Charlie had been her friend and companion, taking care of her and loving her, The responsibilities of raising the children, educating them, and caring for their home were now things she had to do alone. These things were a joy to do when she was basking in the glow of Charlie’s love, but alone, with only the memory of that love, life was much more difficult. Ruby had always been a woman of faith and it was her faith and closeness to God that now kept her going. Ruby’s life at this point started to take on the changes that are common to many widows. Such as, friends and family members who used to visit started to come around less frequently until after a while they didn’t come around at all. Ruby’s brother Louis Edmonson, and sister Margaret Burton were the exceptions. Their love and support never failed, but remember, they had been through the orphanage and so many other life experiences with Ruby. Because of her orphanage training, experience, and her own tenacity, Ruby’s life was very orderly. This was a great blessing as it helped her to continue with the work of raising the children and keeping house. Her lifelong practice of hospitality, kindness, and sensitivity, especially for children

only increased as time went on. Her daily routine continued with few changes, except there was a lot more time in the evenings now for prayer. Ruby served her children three meals a day, always at the same time. The only difference was that she no longer sat at the table with the children, but would let them be seated, and serve them while she ate standing at the kitchen counter. I see this as Ruby’s way of trying to avoid the feeling of loneliness that can accompany doing the ordinary things of life without her Charlie. Jerry Cahill was a year ahead of me at St. Xavier High School at 2nd and Broadway. I knew Jerry only from riding the 12th Street bus to school along with other St. X students from the Portland area. I remember that when he didn’t show up one day someone said that his father had died and that’s really all I knew about it. It was my freshman year. When the book list came out for the next school year I heard that Jerry wanted to sell his from last year so I went to his house to buy those that were on my list. I don’t remember seeing his mother at that time, but his little sister was lying across the bed with her head propped up with both arms, watching the transaction. About a year later, June 28, 1958, I was riding my bicycle on Griffith Avenue. Mary Wine came walking down the street with another girl. Mary lived about five houses away from my house on 20th Street. Well, I turned my bike around and started riding along with them and talking with them. They were on their way to St. Cecilia Church to make a visit. (Churches were all unlocked in those days, and anyone could come in and pray and visit with Jesus any time they wanted to.) We got as far as the street corner by the church where we stayed and talked for about two hours. The girl with Mary said she was Jerry Cahill’s sister, Mary Ann, but I didn’t remember that Jerry had a sister. She said Jerry tried to keep her existence a secret and never mentioned her to his friends. Mary Ann was pretty, witty, had charming mannerisms, and a thoroughly lovable personality. After two hours of visiting with these two girls I found myself

completely in love with Mary Ann. She, understandably, didn’t find me quite so charming. I was skinny, not very tall, had my own version of an Elvis hairstyle, was wearing dirty blue jeans and a dingy white “T” shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the left sleeve. My right pant leg was rolled up high enough to keep it out of the bicycle chain. In the Portland neighborhood I lived in the houses were all built very close to each other. Since it was late June, all the windows were open to take advantage of the summer breeze. The down side to that was that the neighbors could easily overhear most conversations. Well, here’s the way it went. When I got home I told my mother that today I had met the girl I was going to marry and her name was Mary Ann. Judy, the teenage girl next door overheard it and couldn’t wait to tell Mary Wine, who in turn called Mary Ann. And there I was, thinking that I was having a private conversation with my mother. I really wanted to see Mary Ann again, so the next day I went for a ride on my bicycle past her house to see if she was out. No luck, so I went around the block a time or two. Then, Mary Ann came out of the house with this message,” My mother said if you want to see me come on up to the door and stop riding back and forth past the house.” That was my first encounter with Ruby. I came on into the house and Mary Ann introduced me to her Mother. Mrs. Cahill seemed to be a very stern woman at the time, but looking back at my own actions and appearance (and now I know that she had been told what I had said about marrying her daughter), I think I had aroused her motherly instincts to protect her young. Since Ruby and Charlie were married Mary Ann had been the only other female in the family, and her very presence was a great comfort to Ruby. I’m sure she didn’t know what to think of me. Mary Ann was all I had thought she was and more, but she was much more levelheaded than I and not nearly so quick to give her heart away. She had other boyfriends but I

tried to visit Mary Ann as often as she would let me. Before long she had me meeting her at St. Cecilia Church for Mass every morning and attending the Friday night novenas. Ruby had asked her son Jerry about me and he told her I was OK. After a while I noticed that Ruby seemed to like me more but I didn’t know why and really, I didn’t think much about it at the time. Mary Ann had a close and friendly relationship with her mother, Ruby, and was respectful, obedient, and considerate toward her. I rarely heard so much as a cross word pass between them. Mary Ann called her mother “Mother”, which seemed unusual to me since, like most kids, I called my mother “Mom”. After only a few weeks I joined the grandchildren in calling Ruby “ Ma”. Over the next four years I spent a lot of time at the Cahill home. Sometime I would be there too much and Mary Ann would tell me to give her a break and stay away for a while. Even though I spent more time there than was reasonable, Ma never ran me off or failed to show me every hospitality. Once, when I was there waiting for Mary Ann to get home from Presentation Academy, Ma asked me a serious Question that she may have wanted to ask for some time. “Willie, do you love Mary Ann”? “Yes Ma’am”, I answered just as seriously, “I do”. About three and one half years later, when Mary Ann and I were engaged to be married, Ma and I were talking. She was already starting to feel the loss of her daughter’s company and was wishing she wasn’t getting married. I reminded Ma of her happiness with Charlie and asked if she didn’t want that for Mary Ann. Of course she wanted Mary Ann’s happiness more than her own. Ma and I talked a lot over the years, I’m just giving you a few of the highlights. On Sept. 29, 1962, Mary Ann and I were married. Two weeks later I left for Hawaii and about four weeks after that sent for Mary Ann. We lived in Hawaii till March of 1966. There was no money to pay for visits, and phone calls were expensive and rare. However, there was mail, and Mary Ann

and her mother wrote often and sent each other pictures (We still have the letters). Along with her letter, Ma usually sent us a “Family Circus” cartoon from the newspaper. The third year we were in Hawaii Ma had a heart attack. We were very upset by the news but there was nothing we could do about it. Since we were so far away we can’t tell you very much about what went on. When we came home from Hawaii three kids later, no one was happier to see to us and to get to know our children than Ma. She loved the children and enjoyed having them around. The children took to Ma right off and very much enjoyed spending time with her. The kids liked Ma’s cooking and still talk about it today. Her scrambled eggs were a big favorite. The next year Jerry got married. That left Ronnie as the only one of Ma’s children still living with her. Ma still kept up her housework the same as she always had, and took care of Ronnie with all the energy she had expended when Jerry and Mary Ann had lived there also. While she seemed to be in fairly good health most of the time, her heart condition very gradually continued to worsen. She didn’t go visiting very often, no car. However, her sister-in-law, Mary Cahill lived across the street from the church and Ma would stop in frequently to take care of her needs as she was elderly and needed help. Ma liked to visit her sister Margaret fairly often, but in the late nineteen sixties Margaret moved to California to be nearer her own children and grandchildren. Those who visited Ma often were her brother Louis and his wife Dorothy, her children and grandchildren. Ma was often invited to go to their homes or other places they were going. Mrs. Hartell had been Ma’s next-door neighbor since she and Charlie had first moved there. She couldn’t hear but was an excellent lip reader, and she visited Ma nearly every day. After another two years Ma had 11 grandchildren, Ronnie was married, and though she had lots of visitors, for the first time in her life Ma was living alone. One day I popped in through the back door as I had so often over the years. Ma

was in the kitchen as usual but was trying not to let me see that she was crying. It was very upsetting to me to see her crying because I loved her very much. After a few words I realized that it was loneliness that was the cause of the tears. I have always been more spontaneous and impulsive than contemplative so I thought it obvious that she should move in with Mary Ann, our children, and me. I told her she could have a room all to herself, we would help her sell her house, and she wouldn’t have to be alone any more. In my naiveté I failed to realize that a person can be lonely in a crowd, and that her loneliness was as deep and fervent as the love she had for her husband Charlie. Mary Ann agreed with me to have her mother live with us, and we fixed her up a room of her own as promised. I really believe that Ma was happier living with us than living alone. We very much enjoyed having her there with us, and tried to make her feel at home. I must tell you about the first supper after Ma moved in. Ma was a woman, humble in spirit, and wished not to have her presence be an intrusion into our home life. So, she took her plate over to the steps leading to the basement and sat down to eat there. Nothing we said could make her come to the table with us. Then I said “ Ma, what if some friends of mine come in and see that I make my mother-in-law eat over on the steps. What would they think of me?” She said she hadn’t thought of that, came to the table and nothing more was ever said about it. We had six little kids at the time, and Ma insisted on making the laundry her job. She also helped with the cooking, and let Mary Ann and I go out by ourselves sometime. In 1970, she even let us go on a vacation to Colorado for two weeks taking only Donnie, Linda, and Pam. Not having a house of her own to look after freed Ma to travel. She went to California with Ronnie to visit her sister Margaret on two different occasions, and would sometime spend a few days at her other children’s homes. Always,

though, Ma seemed very happy to get back home. The children enjoyed the closeness and special attention that she always gave them. In time Ma’s heart became weaker and began to fail. There were many trips to the hospital and sometimes she would pass out on the way to the bathroom or kitchen. We put a little bell by her bed so she could ring it and get help getting up, or if she needed something we could get it for her. On December 2, 1972, while Mary Ann was cooking supper she heard the bell ring. Ma asked for a drink of water. When Mary Ann brought the water Ma said “ You won’t have to do anything else for me.” Mary Ann responded, “ Mother, I don’t mind doing anything for you.” It was their last conversation. When supper was ready, Mary Ann asked me to go tell “Mother”. I went to her door, knocked, and called to her softly. When there was no response I immediately suspected she may have died, called Mary Ann, and we both went in and found it was true. In the next sad hours the police and coroner came, and Mary Ann’s brothers were called. As the men from the funeral home were taking Ma’s body away, Jerry and I were standing on the front porch. He thanked me for taking care of his mother. With my eyes burning and heart aching I could only think how grateful I was to have known her and have her live with us. The next few days were the first experiences Mary Ann and I had at hosting a funeral. It was grueling. On the night before the funeral after all the visitors had gone and I could be alone with Ma, I knelt down on the kneeler before her body to say good-by. I was suddenly overcome with sadness at this parting. My body shook, as with great sobs I poured out my grief. So, Ruby, as I bring this letter to a close I hope you can see how blessed you are to be named after such a wonderful person as Ruby Cahill. You are blessed twice because your Grandma, Mary Ann, is very much like her mother, generous, kind, hard working, very considerate of little

children, and much more. If you tried to be like her you would do well. May God Bless Your Life and Keep You Close, I Love You Ruby, Grandpa

This letter has been written in loving remembrance of “Ma” Cahill My Mother-in-law  AMDG